


December 14: great unfinished symphony

by dizzy



Series: farewell and gtfo 2016 daily fic advent [14]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: prompt: I bet darren plays the music and convinced Chris to sing along in the house with him.





	

Chris has always loved music. Darren has always lived and breathed it, on a plane far more critical to his sense of self than love could be. 

Darren carries music with him, shifting and winding its way through every room that he’s in. At three in the morning it’s a low quiet hum of something sad and maudlin. In the chaos of a crowded room with a drink in its hand it’s a frantic violin solo culminating in something loud and clanging and joyous. In bed it’s a string being plucked, tighter and faster. In his family home it’s a contented melody that plays evenly in the background, as necessary to form the snapshot in Chris’s mind as the paper on the walls or the photos in their frames. 

There was still music in Chris’s life when Darren wasn’t around, but it wasn’t like this. It was a box Chris could open and close at will, a song he could pause or mute for as long as he wanted. Darren offers no option for that. He will play, he will sing, and those around him will listen or be damned. 

Sometimes the way Darren uses music like a tool can still catch Chris off his guard. He shows love and anger and whimsy and affection through instruments, through his voice. It’s like a language he has the gift of making people understand on sight. It’s magical and sometimes terrible because when Darren’s songs start, Chris can’t not listen. Darren’s music cuts through ego and frustration like no words really could. 

Darren’s song, right now, is love and celebration. It’s a duet, a familiar old one sung by two voices who never forgot how to sound good together. There’s mulling spices on the stove and a fat cat napping on the floor and a dog that tries to dance along as they sway to the song together in socked feet. They did this once before, with frostbitten noses and Chris wobbly on his skates, back when they lived different lives to lead, sometimes together and sometimes not. 

This is better, Chris thinks. It’s warm here, inside and out. He can sing and no one is listening, trying to glean everything they can from every sound out of his mouth. The song is only for them, they can be selfish with it, protective over it. They’re allowed to now. 

And that might be the best part of all - the songs Darren sings that are just for Chris, the ones he coaxes back out of Chris. How they harmonize, sometimes without even meaning to. 

It’s not a surprise to Chris that having Darren in his life every day again brings the music back to his world.


End file.
